


Make Me Feel

by itsallaboutzarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Boyfriends, Crying Harry, Fluff and Smut, Gift Fic, Love Confessions, M/M, Ten Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 17:09:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16896630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsallaboutzarry/pseuds/itsallaboutzarry
Summary: Zayn, Harry and Louis walk into a bar.Or, Harry crying while having sex. That's pretty much it.





	Make Me Feel

**Author's Note:**

> Amanda. I don't remember why I didn't post this when I wrote it months ago? Anyway, this is for you, with bits of it made specially the way you like it.

Zayn, Harry and Louis walk into a bar.

The music is too loud, and as if it hasn't been scrubbed since they opened years ago, the floor is all sticky with sugary drinks and half covered with coasters, foreign pieces of scrap paper, peanuts and god knows what else. If they didn’t come here as often as they do, it wouldn’t feel as strangely homely as it does.

It’s a well practices routine, their Friday nights. Louis  and Zayn go find them a table and Harry indulges himself in a harmless flirt with the barman as he orders them their regular three for two appletinis, that he’s going to pretend are too sweet and he doesn’t enjoy chasing the taste on Zayn’s tongue as much as he does.

The night starts with some easy, “How’s that thing at work going?” where Harry always ends up contemplating quitting by the third drink, Zayn somehow manages to summarize all fifteen transcripts he’s working on at the moment in five minutes flat, and Louis tries to think of the last time he was free for an entire weekend.

It’s always the same, but as there’s comfort in having a routine, and they end up pleasantly tipsy by the time all the tables are occupied, and there’s a few people in the only empty corner of the bar that’s probably not actually meant for acting as if the grinding you’re doing is proper dancing, it’s somehow the only spot, their spot, they come to every Friday.

Except, this is the first Friday that they’re less enjoying their drinks and more on a very serious and extremely important mission.

They’re scouring the crowd for tall, handsome men who look like they’re smart - but not too smart - have a stable income though not necessarily having reached their peak career-wise, are family orientated or aren’t just looking for a shag, but want at least one child, and don’t mind not seeing their significant other during the week for more than a few late afternoons hours. Zayn’s been confident all night - not that that’s been any help whatsoever since the appletinis are going straight to his head - but Harry has his reservations about the long and somewhat detailed list of conditions that they  _ somehow _ cannot seem to meet just by looking at the men around the bar. Knowing Louis, he’s surprised it’s as short as it is.

So far, Louis’ went to chat to two blokes and came back scowling like they’ve at least insulted his entire family. He’s gone to dance with two others, came back immediately after the first song ended after the first one and only lasted thirty seconds with the other until he dragged him off to the loo, which was an immediate infraction on the only condition Zayn and Harry gave him.

_ No one offs _ .

It’s started a year ago: the complaining and the whining and the heated and not in the least bottled up or unconscious jealousy. Louis took it upon himself to tell Zayn and Harry just how much he hated them for being together right in front of his face, ‘In my own apartment, you heartless knobheads’. A year of banging on their bedroom door in the middle of the night to ‘keep it down, pervs’ when they were  _ just sleeping _ . 

Last weekend, on the night of their one year anniversary of living together, which Zayn and Harry were planning on spending alone, together, with an intimate dinner Harry was supposed to prepare and the massage Zayn promised  to give, was the peak, however.

Harry was humming to himself for two very distinct and very different reasons. The first was because Mambo Number 5 had been stuck in his head since Louis thought it’d be fun to listen to the songs of their pasts as if they lived through the 50’s, so the inside of it has been nothing but ‘jump to the left and jump to the right’ for the last three days. Which was fine, Harry could take Mambo Number 5 any day - it’s a good song, he was shaking his hips to it, and Zayn was watching his ass while trying to talk to Lou. Mambo Number Five can bring it the fuck on. Louis, however, could do with someone telling him to shut up already,  _ god _ . 

Except, it was in no way going to be Zayn, who has a wonderful ability of tuning Louis out and not sharing  _ how he does it with Harry _ . And it was definitely not going to be Harry either, because he’s pretty sure there’s some clause or some-such in the best friend code, that prohibits all and every attempt to stuff Louis’ mouth shut with bread if nothing else. Even if his complaining had reached unbearable proportions of mass annoyance that night. And even if it had been going on for roughly a year. Or exactly a year to the day. Which coincides - not surprisingly and not even in the least shockingly - with the day Zayn moved in. Louis’ lucky there’s a clause.

“It’s not fair,” Louis whined for the fifth time in a row. “It’s not fair, it just isn’t.” Sixth and seventh.

“Maybe you should make a plan,” Harry suggested, not for the first time. At the rate the evening was going, his delicious bolognese will be nothing but a pasty slush, beaten literally to a pulp, and that massage is going to be to the tune of Louis’ ‘ _ Why me?’ _ . So, Harry took a deep breath, then another, sent a pretty menacing glare at Zayn and turned around to face Louis. “Organize yourself, maybe. Just, make a plan.”

Louis, to his credit, didn’t roll his eyes. “Oh, sure, yeah. That’s exactly what I’ve been missing all this time. A  _ plan _ . Zayn, quick, get a pen and paper, so I can  _ make a plan _ .”

“You don’t have to be mean.”

“With those kinds of suggestions…”

“Have you, you know,” Zayn said while bumping his heels against the cupboard like he knows Harry hates, “actually tried dating someone?” So the look Louis gives him is well deserved, but Zayn shook his head with a snorted, “Mate, dating and shagging are two different things.” Which, true.

“‘Dating and shagging are two different things.’ When have you become all… smart and shit?”

“Hey,” Harry snapped, pointed with his very threatening spatula and only dropped a little of the bolognese on his bare foot. “Don’t insult him.”

“Okay, fine. Whatever.” Louis huffed with an unproportionate amount of resigned exasperation for the situation at hand. “It’s just not fair. Everyone’s all paired up and dating and busy all the time.”

“Like you’re not busy.”

“That’s not the point.” Louis scowled. “The point is that I’m busy and single. Have I mentioned practically celibate. And I’m only going to say this once,” Louis raised his fierce chin and looked at them down his nose, “I might be a bit miserable because of it all.”

Which in that particular moment, Harry had to admit, wasn’t exactly hard to believe, not that Harry would ever say so out loud, because though he must look all kinds of flimsy and unbothered, he does value his life. Besides, Zayn would be so sad if Louis killed him.

It was with that thought and the way Zayn was clearly trying not to laugh at Louis, that Harry leaned over to him and kissed him quickly enough to pretend like Louis wasn’t making lovely throwing-up-background-noises at them.

“See? And then you go and flaunt your togetherness right in my face. You’re both lucky I don’t sue.”

“Lou, come on.” Pleading was useless, Harry knew this, but it was a sort of ‘try anything and beg if everything else fails’ type of situation.

Zayn and Harry had been together for nearly two years, and living with Louis for exactly one. It’s been a lot of watching movies on the couch and waiting for Lou to pass out so they could sneak off to their bedroom and recreate whatever scene they were both thinking of. It’s been Harry making dinner for three on every anniversary or any other night. Booking a holiday on Majorca for three in two adjoining rooms - not that that stopped Louis from passing out drunk half over Zayn’s and half over Harry’s legs on their bed. There was one funeral and about a bazillion weddings where they RSVPed as one, plus two. Not that it bothered any of them. Well, it didn’t bother Harry or Zayn, but Louis has been harboring some feelings, which in all honesty, was never a good sign.

Harry understood him, of course he did, he could see where Louis was coming from. It’s no fun being a third wheel to every single event you were invited to, including watching a movie on the couch you technically bought, or even something as simple as Harry’s delicious pasta bolognese dinner.

Harry understands, but the whining has  _ got _ to stop already.

“What if we set you up on a date? An actual, no shagging, dinner and a movie, date?”

Louis scoffed. But then he crossed his arms and Harry knew he was hooked. “With who?”

“We’ll think of someone. Right?”

Zayn noded and thumped his heels again. God, if Harry didn’t love him as much as he did, he’d throttle him.

“If this is pity…” Louis started, cautious at any sign of sympathy or any of the other words he had decided should be classified as ‘disgusting’.

“No, no. We do care about you and want to see you happy,” Zayn nodded along with Harry, “But it’ll be great for us two as well. We could go on double-dates. I could finally make an entire turkey for holidays and there’ll be none of it left to go bad. There’s… I don’t know, lots of selfish reasons.”

“I like selfish reasons,” Louis muttered, his eyes gleaming like they always should’ve been.

“And you’ll get shagged in the end. That’s good right?” Zayn added, somewhat helpfully.

First, Louis frowned at Zayn, then at Harry, to which he got two uncertain shrugs in return. Then he shrugged himself, before he was nodding and slapping Zayn’s shoulder with a loud, “It’s settled then. Let’s get me shagged. Or, you know, someone to date and  _ also _ shag.”

“Shagging shouldn’t be the goal.”

Louis snorted. 

He snorts when Harry points to a handsome enough  guy at the bar too, which really, is just unnecessarily mean. “Hey,” he drags, having to really push it to look offended, because he’s actually quite comfortable right now, leaning into the crook of Zayn’s arm and having his hair played with. “He looks like he’s your type.”

“And what exactly, pray tell, makes him my type. Which I don’t even have to begin with,” Louis murmurs into his drink. Harry very nearly snorts too.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, looks up at Zayn, who is no help whatsoever. “He’s tall. Right?”

Squinting, Harry thinks the guy might be a bit shorter than himself, but that does make him taller than Louis still, so. Tall.

“He’s not  _ tall _ . He’s… no.” When Harry opens his mouth to try again, Louis cuts him off with another firm, “No, Harold.”

It’s harder than what Harry imagined it would be, getting Louis a date, and he didn’t think it’d be a piece of cake to begin with, but it’s been nothing but no’s and vetoes and the kind of rude laughs Harry has had to shush Louis over. 

They’ve gone through their friends, but besides the very few and far between times Louis came home blushing and scratching at the back of his neck, looking overly guilty while still smirking as he said, “Don’t think it’s gonna work out between us, but thanks anyway,” nothing’s stuck. Not more than for a night at least. 

Harry’s contemplating calling the entire thing off and pronouncing both defeat and Louis eternally single, when Zayn jerks his head to the bar with a mumbled, “What about him?” into Harry’s hair. 

Harry doesn’t even turn around. He’s over it. This isn’t as fun as he thought it would be and though he wants to see Louis be nothing but happy, he is so very over it. Maybe just for tonight though, because Louis  _ does _ deserve to have someone. Someone like Zayn, who’s sweet and kind and oh so very pretty. Someone who’s going to wake him up with a cup of coffee in the morning and a gentle hand scratching over his back. Someone who’ll call his mum and have her come over as a surprise, just because he thought Harry was in a bit of a slump and needed a pick-me-up, which he did, he really did.

Louis does turn around though and even if Harry doubts it’ll lead to anything, he can see his interest is piqued. “See,  _ he’s _ tall. Really tall.”

“You’re gonna shag him, then?”

“I though you were supposed to be my cheerleader, not doubt my capabilities of keeping it in my pants for five minutes, christ.”

“I don’t doubt your capabilities, Lou,” Harry burrows deeping into Zayn and drinks a sip of his appletini, “I just know what that particular look on your face means.”

Louis, typically, scoffs.

“At least he looks like he has a job.”

“He does, doesn’t he?”

“Why?” Harry pouts, because he doesn’t want to turn around to look, but he wants to see too. 

Zayn scratches at the back of his neck as he explains that, “He’s got a nice jacket, a shirt, a  _ scarf _ , and, let me just,” he stretches his neck around a little, “Yap, fancy boots.”

Harry swirls his drink and asks, “How many kids do you think he wants?” pointedly not looking at the face Louis makes.

“I’m just looking out for my future self, alright? Nothing wrong with that.”

Harry relents and lifts his free hand. “Didn’t say there is.”

Louis gives him a  _ look _ , but he trains his eyes back on the tall guy who apparently definitely has a job. “He’s with two friends. I don’t know, he looks… nice.”

And that, if anything, is a big compliment from Louis.  _ Nice _ , in Louis’ world, means pretty much perfect from the offset, which is good, it is, but it isn’t the first glance that’s usually the problem, it’s the  _ boring _ , and the  _ weird smile _ ,  _ creepy feet _ ,  _ what’s up with his nose? _ that’s the issue. The  _ he stole the covers,  _ and the  _ he didn’t appreciate my humor,  _ that’s the reason Louis’ single. But  _ nice _ , is a very good start. So good, in fact, that Harry heaves a put upon sigh and disloges himself from a very comfortable Zayn. 

“Fine, let’s have look then.” He turns around and scans the people at the bar for a tall and handsome. When he lands on the tallest guy, three things happen all at once. First, Harry is unbelievably happy. He’s practically the happiest he’s ever been in his life - not that he’s telling Zayn that. Secondly, Harry is also very happy for the guy, extremely happy. Thirdly, he knows, better than he’s known anything ever in his life, that the guy meets most if not all of Louis’ criteria. The last thing that goes through his head that he doesn’t think about is how stupid he’s been to not think of it from the start. The year of whining he could’ve gone without makes him shiver all over.

He turns around with a grin he can’t quite keep off his face. “He does look nice.”

Louis starts nodding, but when he sees Harry’s face, he quickly frowns. “What’s going on with you? Is he your type too?”

Zayn laughs and nudges Harry, but it doesn’t stop him grinning. “It was maybe once upon a time, but I’m more than happy, thank you,” he gives Zayn a quick kiss. “I think he looks like he does have a good job. Maybe he works mainly in the mornings.” Harry shrugs and winks at Louis which earns him another frown. “Might be a bit career driven, but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing, you know. You’re dedicated to your job too.”

“What are you on about?” Louis asks, but his eyes are skipping from Harry to the guy. 

Harry goes on undeterred, “He’s probably very family oriented. Might be close to his mum. Takes her on holiday and everything.”

Louis looks at Zayn like he wants him to do something, maybe check if Harry’s alright or at least smack him a little. 

“And his mom is lovely. Really lovely.”

“Harold.” Louis doesn’t look amused, so as to not risk a sour mood messing this perfection up, he turns around towards the bar and grins like he’s stupidly happy. Which he is. 

“Grimmy. Grimmy!” Harry has to shout, but by the third time, Grimmy starts looking around and about a second later, he spots Harry, so they’re both grinning at each other - even if for very different reasons. 

Grimmy says something to his friends, and starts running over with his lanky, half coordinated legs. When he’s practically shoving himself into the booth to get his arms around Harry, it almost feels like it’s five years ago and not a single thing has changed. Harry doesn’t know why he didn’t think of Grimmy.

“Harold! Look at you! Still as adorable as ever, I see.” 

“I’m all grown up, now,” Harry flashes him a cheeky smile and they dissolve into giggles, both of them probably thinking of the past without saying so much as a word about it. 

“And who might you be?” Cuts through their laughter and Grimmy saying, “Harold, Harold, Harold,” over and over again.

Grimmy turns to Louis and like Harry hoped - nay, practically expected - he straightens up and says, proud as ever, “Grimmy. Nice to meet you.”

Zayn says a quick, “Hey,” because he’s heard of him, but they’ve never met. They wave a little awkwardly at each other, but it’s Louis that Grimmy should be focusing, which he does, probably expecting a ‘hey’ in return.

In typical Louis fashion, however, what Grimmy gets is a, “Alright, if you say so.”

“Louis,” Harry snaps quietly. This  _ has to _ work. It absolutely has to.

Louis sighs and smiles facetiously. “Hey, I’m Louis, nice to meet you too.”

Grimmy nods, more than a little confused, which is saying something, and turns back to Harry. His smile deepens and he spreads his arms out with a happy yelp of, “I’m back.”

“You are?”

“Yeah, I, um… I quit!” he laughs, bright as ever, but Harry’s known him long enough to know there’s something else there than happiness. 

“And you’re back?”

“I am. We should catch up sometime,” he glances back at the bar, taking a step towards it, “I have to, you know. But call me, alright? Breakfast, tomorrow, we’ll talk?”

“Yeah, yes, definitely,” Harry’s saying as Grimmy starts walking away. “I have the same number!”

“Me too!”

They laugh again, and once he’s gone, Harry turns back around, grinning all over again at Zayn.

“Grimmy!”

“I saw, babe. He’s back.”

“He’s back,” Harry sighs. And then, from one second to the next, he frowns and looks straight at Louis. “You. What was that all about?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,  _ Harold _ ,” Louis mumbles into his drink.

“Oh, give over, Grimmy is basically your soulmate and you go and have to be rude to him.”

Louis sputters, says, “Soulmate,” like the word has a particularly off-putting taste. “Please.”

“He’s tall,” Harry starts counting on his fingers, “He’s a nice person. He’s close to his family, he has a good job, and as far as I know, he wants kids. He has a dog, and if you don’t fuck it up, he might give you another chance.”

“I don’t need ‘another chance’,” Louis says, but Harry knows him well enough to see the wheels in his head turning. He sees Louis glance back at the bar as he finishes his drink. “What I do need, is the loo. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Fine.  _ Fine.  _ Find your own ride back, then. Come on, Zayn.”

“What?”

“We are leaving.”

“ _ Fine _ .” 

And with that, Harry gets up, Zayn with him, though a lot less angry and lot more confused.

Louis huffs one last time before he stalks over to the loo.

\+ + + +

It’s really a testament to Harry’s amazing character that he manages to leave without throttling Louis, though it might have more to do with Zayn’s persuasive ways in the end, and how he drags, actually physically drags him out by the hand.

“Come  _ on _ , Harry.”

“He’s stupid, he’s so  _ so  _ stupid.” Harry feels like it’s a point he has to make, because he knows for a fact no one else is making it and someone should, they  _ should _ , especially when Louis is being extra stupid. And this, is one of those times. 

Zayn wraps his arm around Harry’s waist because he knows it’s exactly what Harry needs right now. Zayn is good like that. “Don’t say that,” he says, prompting Harry to take it back immediately. “You know how he is.”

Harry  _ does _ , but what that has to do with anything, he doesn’t know. “I just thought - I wanted to tell him tonight.”

“Haz,” Zayn coos, comforting Harry as much as he can be comforted at the moment. They’re halfway back to their flat, which is halfway too long away from a cuddle and both of Zayn’s arms around him, holding him tight for as long as he can, because there’s only so many times they have to cuddle until Harry leaves for good. No, not for good, just for a good while.  _ Fuck _ , he’s leaving and Louis doesn’t even know yet.

“He’s gonna hate me,” he sniffles pathetically.

“Babe, we talked about this.” Zayn is the best, he really is. “Lou is gonna be upset, of course he is, I mean,” he goes all quiet then. Harry knows what’s coming. They circle back to this practically every night, to Harry feeling guilty and steadfastly staying because who is he kidding? He can’t leave. He can’t just up and move continents, for christ’s sake. “I was upset too.” Zayn’s hand tightens around his hip. “Everyone’s going to be upset, but we’ll get over it. You’ll come back.” If for nothing else, then Harry is coming back for Zayn. That’s for sure.

“It’s not like I have to leave though. I’m not joining the military. Louis is going to  _ hate _ me. Properly this time.”

“Listen to me.” Zayn stops him when Harry tries to run away up the front steps like a coward who doesn’t deserve Zayn or his kindness. Holding his face in his hands and brushing both of his thumbs over his cheeks like he’s wiping the tears Harry hasn’t shed yet - yet - Zayn says, “You’re going, because it’s a wonderful opportunity that you aren’t wasting just because your best friend is emotionally stunted.” They both laugh, but it doesn’t sound happy, doesn’t sound like much except heartbreak. “Louis is great, but you know how he gets about these things.”

“All of the things,” Harry adds quietly, because he loves the little inconsistencies about Louis, how hot and cold, wild and wild-er he is with his emotions. He’s Harry’s Louis, and that’s exactly how Harry wants him. It’s just that, sometimes, all those things become inconvenient and less than ideal. But especially when big changes like moving away are announced. Louis is going to feel betrayed, and all Harry could think to do to fix that was put off telling him.

In hindsight, it wasn’t the best decision Harry’s ever made.

“We’re all going to miss you and we all love you. So much.” Zayn looks right at him when he says, “ _ So  _ much,” again, but Harry hears him, loud and clear and bright like the fucking stars in the sky, because he loves him back just as much. More.

“I love you too,” Harry says aloud for posterity’s sake. He hasn’t said much else to Zayn for the past month, because he wanted Zayn to know, really know, how much Harry means it. He says it again. He’s going to keep saying for the next two weeks, until he’ll have to tell it to his phone and the little camera on his laptop. 

“Wanna go up?”

Harry nods while Zayn wipes under his eyes, having something to wipe this time.

It’s been a lot, getting the promotion and running home to Zayn and crying without even thinking of taking it, but especially when Zayn said, “Congratulations, babe,” because he knew what was best for Harry. There has been a lot of congratulation from his mum and Gemma as well, his co-workers even made him a cake and everything. 

Being an editor is the dream, but it’s less of a perfect one when they told him he’d have to move to the company’s other branch all the way in America. That’s been a bit of a nightmare, really. The thought of leaving his family behind, Zayn, Louis. The fact he still has to tell Louis. It’s all nightmarish. But it’s his dream job. And the move wouldn’t be permenant, just for however it would take for the new branch in New York to get going. Harry was promised no longer than two years and no less than one. Before he falls asleep, he keeps coming up with ways to make it a record ten months. He’d just need to be doing three other jobs apart from the one he’d be getting paid for. It’s okay, he’s willing to do that.

He’s kicking off his boots by the time Zayn’s already started the shower, so when Harry walks into the bathroom pouting - only a little bit forced - Zayn’s down to his boxers, his hand under the spray.

“Come on, get naked,” Zayn winks, takes off his boxers and then very nearly flings them right at Harry’s face.

One indignant squawk later, Harry isn’t sure he wouldn’t rather stand there and just look, just  _ watch _ Zayn step inside the shower and reach for the shower gel, getting a palm full and bubbling it up all over his chest. Actually, Harry could be doing that for him instead of drooling on their bathroom floor, now that he thinks about it. He should be the one soaping Zayn’s back, now that he still can.

Zayn laughs with a breathy, “What are you doing?” when Harry nearly upends the shower rack in his haist to get undressed, but his laughter is swallowed up when the last sock is off and Harry’s practically marching towards him. “Oh,  _ oh _ . Okay.”

Harry hums and nods, because that’s his idea exactly.

He squeezes himself behind Zayn and before he can think, gets his hands soapy with what’s left of it on Zayn’s chest.

“I know you promised me a massage,” Harry starts, already working his hands to Zayn’s hips, pressing the tips of his fingers into the flesh there, “But it can be your turn later.”

“Yeah?” Zayn sighs as he lets his head fall back on Harry’s shoulder. The strong line of Zayn’s neck, the sharp angles of his jaw, his shoulder, the way he’s resting against Harry, his back curved, actually makes Harry’s mouth water. He can’t believe he won’t be able to feel this for a year. A whole entire year.  _ God.  _

It’s his hitched breath that makes Zayn turn his head and whisper out a quiet, “Babe,” his fingers curling around Harry’s. “Don’t think about it. Just think about this. Come on.”

“Yeah,” Harry wheezes out. It’s easier said than done. He has to squeeze his eyes and Zayn’s fingers too, for a second so he can put the thought a bit ruther back, a little ways away from right now. He breathes out and leans in to kiss Zayn just to make it all happen faster. “Yeah.”

Zayn smiles into the next kiss and swipes his tongue over Harry’s tongue cheekily. “So, about that massage…”

“Mmm,” Harry hums instead of saying something else. Zayn frees his hands and then it’s fair game. He traces his fingers over his hips again, spreading them apart and then bringing their hands together over his stomach. Zayn’s small groan makes him smile.

“When we get to the bed,” Zayn rasps out when Harry’s hand dips to the hairs below his navel, “I’ll get you on your front and,” his breath hitches when Harry’s middle finger touches his dick for the first time. He’s already hard, they both are, but they enjoying teasing too much for Harry to do much more than trace the length of him up and down with one finger. “And, and starts up on your shoulders.” 

That’s where Harry carries his stress, Zayn told him that once. All up around his neck, that’s why he likes to press his hands into the top of Harry’s back here and there, making Harry melt every time though. 

“I like you on your back more,” Harry adds like they’re carrying a normal conversation and he isn’t actually having to restrain himself from falling to his knees and taking Zayn into his mouth like he wants to. It’s fun this way too, making each other wait. It’s always fun.

“I know.” Zayn presses himself closer to Harry and gasps, as if he had no idea Harry was hard and his cock would press against the top of his ass like it does every time they’re in this position. Harry has to admit though, even if it doesn’t feel new with Zayn anymore, because they’ve learned each other from inside out by now, it’s still just as exhilarating and thrilling and exciting. This, Zayn pressing his ass onto Harry’s cock like the tease that he is, will never get old. Zayn gasps again before he says, “You do have a better ass.”

“I really don’t,” Harry says just as quickly as he can get a hand on Zayn’s ass to make an emphasis. He gives a good squeeze. “I should call you perky.”

“If you  _ ever _ …” Zayn trails off when Harry slips a hand between his cheeks to touch a pad to his hole. “Fucking -  _ God. _ ”

“You were saying?” Harry teases at the puckered skin there with the lightest touch he can manage while his blood is close to boiling. His skin is barely even wet from how they’re standing, but it feels like Zayn turned the water on to  _ hot hot hot _ and let it melt them down into droplets. It’s only Zayn that’s ever made him feel like that, like something else than what he is. Harry already misses him.

“I was trying to say there’s lube on the shelf.”

And there is, because Louis has his own routines of wanking off in the shower even now that it isn’t just Harry who stumbles upon his stupid turquoise vibrator forgotten on the shower floor. Harry is probably going to miss that too, not that he’s thinking of Louis’ vibrator while Zayn trying to grind back on his fingers. Harry is definitely not.

Harry reaches for the bottle, but doesn’t open it yet. “What do you want me to do with it?” He asks instead, because when he’s needy and anxious for it, Zayn’s voice goes all soft and it makes Harry anything but. When Zayn just moans - granted, Harry does slip the tip of his finger inside him - Harry turns the water off and then opens the bottle. He makes sure Zayn’s eyes are open when he pops the lid and tips it over Zayn’s dick. When Harry asks an innocent, “Do you want this?” he gets another moan in return. 

They both know it can only take an index finger to get the other off - somethings are even more fun than just rating porn out of a ten - so Harry doesn’t use more than that to spread the lube up and down Zayn’s cock. It’s messy and he loves it.

“Fuck that feels good?”

“Does it?” Harry says into Zayn’s neck before he bites. He gets another groan for the trouble. 

“Yeah, yeah, just…” Zayn takes a deep enough breath that Harry sees his chest expand, before he says, “Come on,” and wiggles his hips. “Get me ready. Please.”

Which would be perfectly fine if Harry didn’t have a particular idea in his head for tonight and it didn’t involve getting Zayn ready. “I can,” he says, slicking up his fingers and teasing at Zayn’s hole for just another few seconds before he slips two in.  _ Christ _ . “But, I was thinking,” he says as he starts aiming his fingers up and up, Zayn following the motion with his entire self. It’s ridiculous how hot he is like this, how turned on. “What if I make you come like this first, and  _ then,  _ you get me on my front and get me ready.” 

Harry can feel Zayn swallow a sound as he reaches his hand for the wall, curving his back even more like he wants Harry to have all the room he needs to do whatever he wants to. It’s like he wants to make Harry come by sight alone.

“Please, yeah, let me fuck you,” Zayn grits out. Harry is trying to keep him still-er with a hand on his hip, but he’s enjoying the view too much to put any force behind it. They’ve always been so responsive to one another, but there’s something else about Zayn twisting his hips in a rhythm he wants Harry to copy, taking the pleasure all for himself, that has Harry gripping at the base of his cock to stave off the inevitable. “Oh,  _ oh _ \- Make me come, please, please.”

Harry wouldn’t have lasted this long before he’d start to beg, they both know that, but Zayn would tease him for longer still, because nothing gets Harry off more than the promise of something without actually getting to have it. Zayn though; he lets his head dip down and gets a hand around himself, more to just hold on for it than to jerk his hips into it, and lets Harry do whatever he wants. Which is to slowly add another fingers, so he can press three of them up against Zayn’s tight hole and then that bundle than makes him go all tight and quiet and breathless.

Harry twists his fingers this way and than, but keeps them crooked up, always up, until he has Zayn standing on his toes and mewling into the wall and coming over his hand, all in one gasp. 

Though Harry is sprung tight like a fucking spring, Zayn is wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing him while he tries to control his breathing. They end up kissing each other lightly with small fleeting promises they don’t want to spoil the mood with underneath the water again, so they’re both back to being clean and wet.

Getting Harry on his front is an easy thing until he gets a better idea and tells Zayn to lie down next to him. “No, with your feet here,” Harry pats the pillow next to his and makes Zayn’s eyes shine. They shift and Harry scoots down a little, has to raise his leg into the air and only slightly feels like a ridiculous dog, because Zayn chuckles and brings it down on his shoulder - he’s smart like that. It’s why Harry loves him as much as he does.

Harry isn’t ashamed of the fact he moans before he even gets his mouth on Zayn, it’s just he has such a pretty dick, all thick and flushed at the tip, the vain perfect for tracing it with his tongue and Zayn’s so sensitive it makes slurping and groaning around him that more fun. 

He’s nice and soft now, but Harry gets a hand around his base and licks at the tip carefully, slowly, just teasing while he waits for Zayn to get him ready. Zayn’ll get hard in the meanwhile.

It’s when Harry can’t keep himself still anymore and he keeps having to take deep breaths around Zayn’s cock in his mouth that Zayn pushes him on his front and crawls between his knees.

“I thought you liked me on my front better.”

“I do,” Zayn kisses him, probably tastes himself on Harry’s tongue. “But I want to see you right now.”

It’s not even Zayn’s fault, it’s just that this is the first time they’re having sex with Harry leaving clearly on their minds, that gets Harry’s eyes wet from one blink and to the next. It’s stupid and he shouldn’t be crying with Zayn slipping the head of his cock inside him, but Harry is and he can’t help it. He tries, but he can’t.

When he sniffles, trying to cover it up so Zayn doesn’t notice, Zayn notices. 

“What - Oh,  _ babe _ ,” Zayn coos, wrapping his arm around Harry tightly and breathing a sigh into his neck. “Haz, babe.”

“I’m just going to miss you,” Harry manages to whisper. “I’ll just miss you.”

“I know. I’ll miss you too.”

“Not just this,” he rushes to say, because though this is a part of it, how he’d give Zayn everything he asked for, including himself, this isn’t all of it. “I’ll miss all of you so much.” Zayn won’t be there to call his mum when Harry won’t even know he needs to talk to her, and he won’t wake Harry up in the morning because he gets there flashes sometimes and wants to wake up with the sunrise, walk right towards it. Harry won’t have to make two coffees. He’ll just be making the one, just one dinner. He’ll only need a single bed. “I’m - I’m sorry.”

“Nah, babe, we’ll be okay.” Zayn kisses the corner of his mouth, his wet cheek, his temple. “I’ll miss you too, but we’ll be okay. I’ll be annoying with how much I call, I promise.”

“No,” Harry shakes his head against Zayn’s lips, “You won’t be. You better call me every day.”

“I will, I promise.” Zayn looks down at Harry and says, “I promise,” with a hint of a smile that settles the tight knot in Harry’s chest, if not forever then at least for the very now.

Harry hums as he kisses Zayn and swirls his hips a little, just to feel him again, to let him slip in a little further. That’s what Harry should be focusing on: just the now.

That gets Zayn back to groaning into Harry chest and moving his hips too. Harry thought they’d be all soft and gentle with each other, but they know they don’t have time for that any more, for things like lingering touches. Those fade away the quickest anyway.

Zayn’s fast and hard, but with his heels pushing into the small of his back, Harry’s pushing him to be faster and harder and just on this side of rough, because that’ll be harder to forget in two months, in five, when that single bed won’t feel as empty as it will on the first night.

He doesn’t stop crying, there’s still tears slipping down his cheeks when Zayn gets a hand around him and jerks him off tight and quick. One, two, three times and Harry’s eyes are closing as he comes with a low grunt that’s pulled out from his chest. He takes a second before he’s urging Zayn to keep going,  _ please _ , because he wants Zayn to mark him up one way or another, and this will do it, at least for now, for tonight.

Zayn takes a bit longer to come. Harry pinches his nipple and bites at the tendon in his shoulder and keeps saying, “Come on, come in me,” until Zayn does, quietly and with his face buried in Harry’s chest.

With their legs twisted and Harry wrapped up in Zayn’s arms, he has to whisper, “I’ll miss you,” and “I love you,” a few times before he’s able to fall asleep.

It takes Zayn a bit longer than that.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on tumblr.


End file.
